so,--but I question very much whether he was pleased with himself that
he had been so cool and philosophical. He did not wish to make me
wretched; but he had expected I would be so, as a matter of course. To
find me so comfortable under the infliction perplexed and disconcerted
him.

"This will not make any coldness between us, I hope?" he said, at last.
"We will be friends still, dear Juanita?"

"Yes," I replied, "we will be friends, dear William. We are a great
deal more in our true relations thus than as lovers."

"And your uncle's family," he inquired,--"shall we explain all to
them?"

"There is no need of that," I answered, carelessly. "Let things pass.
After a time they will perhaps notice that there is a change, and I can
tell them that we are both tired of the engagement. They will ask no
further questions."

"Thank you," he said. "It will save me some embarrassment."

"Yes," I replied, looking at him steadily, "I think it would have been
a rather awkward topic for you to broach."

His eye fell before mine; through all the sophistry he had used, I
think some slight sense of the baseness of his conduct forced itself
upon his mind.

"Now I must return to the house," I said, rising; "will you not come